


Corollary

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/F, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-16 10:23:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21506323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Tilly suffers side effects.
Relationships: Michael Burnham/Sylvia Tilly
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	Corollary

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Synthesized books aren’t quite like the real thing—Michael prefers pages that are chipped and yellowed with age, _real_ age: worn out from being well loved. But on a starship, sometimes synthesized books are the only option. At least they’re better than reading off a tablet. She’s lying on the soft bed in her shared quarters, staring blankly up at the pages of an old favourite. She’s read the same paragraph three times. She can barely concentrate enough to absorb the story, let alone enough to get any work done—she wants to be in sickbay but was sent right back. Then the doors whisk open, and Michael immediately sits up. 

Tilly bustles in, practically vibrating with frenetic energy. Her bright red hair is even frizzier than usual, bundled up in a tight ponytail that flares out everywhere, bouncing with each step. The doors whoosh shut behind her, and she does a half circle to her bed before wandering over to Michael’s, spluttering, “Michael, I’m _freaking out_!”

Michael had guessed as much. She doesn’t blame Tilly. But she tries to help, to be that Vulcan calm that Tilly needs. She places her book over on the bedside table and waits, giving Tilly a chance to breathe again.

Tilly does. She exhales loudly and flops down onto her bunk. Michael asks, “What did Dr. Culber say?”

“Basically that I have that _pon farr_ thing you said,” Tilly dryly laughs, voice hoarse and humourless. “Somehow, I managed to contract a Vulcan disease that’s hardly in the databanks and nobody wants to talk about! _Ohh_ , this is why my mother told me not to go into engineering and do crazy experiments. Well, no, that’s not why, but she did say it, and she was right—please don’t ever tell her I said that—”

“Tilly,” Michael cuts in, mainly just to slow Tilly down. Tilly looks up at her, one step away from hyperventilating. 

Michael rises from her bed. She strolls over, slow and steady, as though afraid to startle a wild animal. Then she settles next to Tilly, hoping her presence can sooth some of the nerves. She explains, “It’s not a disease. And you _don’t_ have _pon farr._ That was just an example of an alien mating ritual, but it’s not uncommon—plenty of species have them.”

“Not humans,” Tilly half snorts, half whines.

“What else did Dr. Culber say? He obviously let you out of sickbay...”

Tilly lets out a long, hopeless whine. Her round shoulders slump, head tilting back as her eyes scrunch shut. “He gave me some pills and told me I’d be fine if I just take a few days off and relax. But... but what if I’m _not_?”

Michael reaches out to brush her hand over Tilly’s. Tilly practically jumps. The touch is electric, simple and soft but somehow wildly _intense_ —Michael’s breath actually catches. She can _feel_ the difference in Tilly’s being. She’s burning up. And when she looks at Michael, her eyes are wide and dilated. Her plump cheeks are pleasantly flushed, giving her a healthy glow, but an alluring under layer that tugs at Michael’s base instincts. Michael swallows down any reaction to the changes and just squeezes Tilly’s hand, trying to be reassuring. She promises, “You can trust the doctors here. And me. Even Lieutenant Stamets is looking into what happened. We’ll take care of you.”

Tilly’s cheeks flush redder—a lovely pink to match her fiery hair. In that moment, she looks more beautiful than Michael’s ever seen her. She’s just sitting there in her uniform, innocent and trusting, but mature enough for a starship and all the insanity that it entails. Michael knows that Tilly can handle it. 

Tilly murmurs, “You know... you’re _really pretty_ , Michael.”

Michael smiles. She knows it’s Tilly’s condition talking. It’s obviously started. Michael gently strokes the back of Tilly’s hand and leans in to kiss Tilly’s cheek—just something chaste and heartfelt. Tilly turns to try and kiss her lips, but Michael dodges back.

She says, “Don’t make any decisions right now. But I’ll be here if you need me.” She begrudgingly disentangles her fingers from Tilly’s, standing up. Tilly whimpers and tries to latch on to her. 

But Michael resists. She wanders over to her bed, plucking her book back up. Michael orders, “Get some rest, Ensign.”

Tilly pouts but does.


End file.
